Empathetic
by ToonYoungster
Summary: Gym Battles? Easy. Winning the Pokémon League? Child's play. Becoming Dawn's stupid boyfriend? Paul's greatest challenge.


**notes** \- I do not own Pokémon, TPCi, or any of its properties. Bless you, Satoshi Tajiri.

* * *

~ **Empathetic** ~

Contrary to what people may think, Paul is not some stone-faced, unfeeling bastard. He has emotions just like everyone else. Serious. Bitter. Exasperated. That last one's been happening a lot lately, and the cause of it comes from everywhere. His chimchar failing to meet expectations, the trainers in the corner that won't shut up about Brandon of the Battle Pyramid, that blue-haired friend of Ash whose name alludes him that tries to get him to show a smidgen of compassion.

Paul is exasperated.

* * *

Paul's hates useless small talk. He always answers people with only the minimum amount of words necessary–or a cold scowl if he can help it. But that girl–Dawn, right?–is tailing behind him after he exits the Pokémon Center and it doesn't seem like she'll leave him alone unless he talks to her.

He mentally groans. If he has to say something, he may as well be honest.

And so he talks. He talks about his dislike for Ash, his distaste for how similar the boy is to his brother Reggie, and how inane ideas like 'trust' and 'guts' annoy him to no end.

He expects Dawn to start spouting nonsense about how _right_ Ash is, and how _wrong_ he is. What he doesn't expect Dawn to say is how people can have vastly different styles despite having similar beliefs, and how those contrary styles don't necessarily make any one person wrong.

At least, that's what she _meant_ to be say. Her actual answer is much more simple-minded.

But the important part is that Dawn didn't reject him like so many others, and when your training style goes against the majority rule, that's oddly comforting.

Paul is thankful.

* * *

He runs into her again about a year later by chance. Yes, _chance_. He refuses to call it 'fate'. He just so happened to be in the area following his win at the Lumiose Gym when he bumps into Dawn right in the middle of the north plaza. It's probably his biggest surprise of the day, second only to the gym leader he'd just beaten that was also a talking robot. They exchange awkward pleasantries, and Dawn invites him over for lunch at Restaurant Le Nah. And it's only because Paul has no excuse, and that he's actually quite hungry that he agrees.

He plows through the double battle with just his weavile, and helps himself to an order of soup and breadsticks while Dawn enjoys her salad. She offers to foot the bill.

It's only later that night that Paul realizes that, by pure definition, he went on a date with Dawn.

Paul is not displeased.

* * *

Paul is not fond of pokémon contests. They're far too showy and impractical for his sake. But while he has no interest in contests, he can respect that pokémon coordinators need a mastery of skills are that are far beyond Paul's level of understanding.

When he sees Dawn on the broadcast trounce the competition with a combination of discharge and ice beam to create a cage of electrically-charged ice, he is quite honestly impressed.

Next time they run into each other, he asks her to teach it to him.

So they set up a date, er, _meeting_ the next day at a local park where they have a few practice battles and in no time, Weavile and Electivire have mastered the technique completely, albeit in a style more suited for battling. As a thank you, Paul offers to buy her a meal.

As they eat in silence, A girl with giant pink ringlets saunters up to them and starts giving them the third degree.

"This guy your boyfriend?" she asks, loud enough for the other patrons to hear.

"No, Ursula," Dawn says, barely hiding the annoyance behind a smile. "This is Paul, one of Ash's rivals from a few years back."

Paul makes some sort of grunting noise that simultaneously says, "yes" and "back off" to this Ursula girl. She takes the hint and exits the restaurant with a satisfied smirk.

Paul is irritated.

* * *

Less than two months have passed, and word around the coordinator circle is that the esteemed Dawn is now dating some edgelord trainer named Paul.

Paul reads the excerpt in _Coordinator Monthly_ , clicking his tongue in distaste.

If there's anything Paul truly hated about being a pokémon trainer, it's the publicity. Warding off reporters, kids badgering him for battling advice, that goddamned fanclub that arose when that photo of him in an undershirt leaked online. It's why Paul travels alone, away from all the scrutiny so he can keep all his focus on training. But all of his attempts to keep a low profile were apparently all for naught.

Zoey is the first to confront him. He cooly brushes her off, simply stating that it's mindless gossip and completely untrue. She leaves him alone after that, but not before giving him an eye that said "you try anything funny, and I'll break your legs".

Barry comes soon after that, demanding at the top of his lungs for an explanation lest he fine Paul for betraying him. Paul doesn't know what he means by that, and frankly, he doesn't care. He gives him the same answer he gave Zoey, word for word, and Barry eventually believes him.

At some point, Kenny steps up, and Paul saves the poor guy a lot of trouble by outright denying everything before he can even get a word in.

Paul is tired.

* * *

Paul excels at a lot of things. Training, battling, pissing people off, the list goes on. But the one thing he never got the hang of is being a socially functional human being.

So when Dawn invites him over to a banquet for coordinators as her plus-one, Paul is disinterested, as if trying to find some benefit to going that will help him be a stronger trainer.

"Why?" he asks far too directly, "Just ask someone else."

"Everyone else is busy with other plans," Dawn explains, a bit miffed. "And you're my only friend left in the whole region!"

Paul stiffens, his mind stuck on the word 'friend'. When was the last time anyone ever referred to him like that? Kindergarten?

"People will get the wrong idea," he tells her gruffly. "And I'd rather not give them _another_ reason to think that we're dating."

"Since when have you ever cared about what people think of you?" she counters.

Touché. Still, he'd like to keep the pests at bay, especially now that they've finally started to leave him and his nonexistent love life alone. But as far as he can tell, all the coordinators at the banquet will be people he's already explained himself to, so the possibly of another rumor spreading should be exponentially lower.

"Fine."

Paul is naive.

* * *

After a long day of training for the Pokémon League, Paul checks into the local Pokémon Center. Nurse Joy sympathetically tells him that they're overbooked and that he'll need to share a room with someone in order to stay. Not surprising, he surmises. The League challengers are always monopolizing the Center during this time. He'd much rather get his own room, but he can deal with bunking with some random trainer for the night.

As the nurse hands him the room key, it's only then that he notices Dawn further down the reception desk, a room key in her hand marked with a number the same as his own.

That night, he glances from his book as Dawn exits the shower, clad in a white rope, and her glistening, blue hair hanging over her bare shoulders.

Paul is frustrated.

* * *

Paul is a man of routine. Wake up, eat breakfast, train, eat lunch, train, eat dinner, read a book, sleep. Lather, rinse, repeat. If something were to incorporate itself into his precious time, it would have to be something of great importance.

How Dawn managed to sneak her way in there, he'll never know.

Today, Paul is listening with one ear as Dawn laments on making the semifinals of the Unova Grand Festival. She hasn't made it this far since Sinnoh all those years ago, and understandably, she's nervous out of her mind.

He notices Dawn's fidgeting hand, so he places his own ice-cold palm on top of it in an attempt to calm her down. "You'll be fine," he says offhandedly, not even looking up from his phone.

Dawn eyes bug out, and she goes red in the face, as though Paul has violated her in some way. When she realizes that this was Paul's weird way of showing affection, she smiles softly, and places her other hand on top of the pile.

"Thanks Paul," she says with a sigh of relief, "You're a good friend."

Paul is ignorant.

* * *

"Do you want to go out with me?"

It doesn't show on his face, but Paul feels like he was just blown back fifty feet by a hyper beam. He swerves his body to stare at Dawn as if she's grown a second head. He scrutinizes her, looking for some trace of teasing on her expression, some hint of humor in her body language, any sort of indication that she's only pulling his leg.

There is none.

"Why?" he asks, with all the careful seriousness he uses in battle. "I don't date people."

"I know, but…" Dawn bites her tongue, trying not to sound foolish. "I really like you, you know? I mean, you're smart and determined and not as heartless as everyone says you are."

Paul thinks she's rationalizing. That she must be blinded by some great desire for romance that she's ignoring all the very obvious reasons why he would _not_ be a good boyfriend in any respect. At least, that's what he thinks at first. He knows from first-hand experience that while Dawn can be naive, she's not frivolous, nor is she the type to lead people on. In that case, she must honestly have some romantic interest in him, as absurd as that may sound.

And if he's being completely and utterly and totally honest...he's rather fond of her himself.

Just a tad.

"Fine," he says curtly. "I'll go out with you."

A jubilent smile stretches across Dawn's face, and she immediately starts listing off places to go on their first "official" date, while her boyfriend of three seconds grumbles in agreement.

Paul is content.

* * *

Paul nibbles down just below Dawn's collarbone, eliciting a faint moan from the coordinator. He gently pushes themselves onto the bed, and slowly moves his tongue down Dawn's figure while she straddles his waist.

At this moment, Piplup steps into the room and squawks in horror. In the shadow of darkness, all he can see is a big, scary man forcing himself onto his beloved trainer.

Piplup launches forward with a drill peck, and Paul screams loud enough to wake up the entire Pokémon Center.

While her boyfriend gets checked for rectal damage, Dawn takes Piplup into the hospital lobby to have a magnificently awkward talk about human relationships.

Paul is humiliated.

* * *

Paul isn't sure how to feel at the moment. One the one hand, he's just accomplished a huge part of his dream that many trainers could only hope for. On the other hand, he feels weak in the knees, as if all the attention on him is physically beating him down into the ground. Or maybe that's just the solid gold trophy in his grasp.

"Congratulations, Paul," Cynthia says to him with a tender smile. "May you carry the title of Sinnoh League Champion with honor."

"Thank you." Despite of himself, Paul smiles. As of now, nothing could ruin his relatively good mood.

At least until the press conference.

With the reporters and cameramen bombarding him like a machine gun, Paul resists the urge to curse them out and instead puts on a face of what he hopes is dignity.

"Mr. Champion, what's the secret to your immense strength?"

"How do you respond to the allegations that you've abused your pokémon with illegal stimulants?"

"Is it true that you are dating Top Coordinator Dawn?"

"No comment," Paul spits. "Next question."

The next onslaught of paparazzi is even more ravenous, and after an hour of fending off the vullabys, Paul retreats to his hotel room. Dawn is there with a cup of tea and a comfy bed.

Paul is drained.

* * *

Paul hardly doubts himself. Oh sure, ninety-nine percent of things annoy him to no end, but barely anything makes him self-conscious. He's so used to people chastising him for his harsh training methods that such things now slide off like butter. Years of being called a douche, a stick-in-the-mud, and an asshole has given Paul a lot of thick skin.

But when a young trainer actually called him a 'nice guy', Paul visibly bristles.

Worst yet, his former rival Ash Ketchum is there when it happened. As a precocious little boy dashes off in excitement after receiving the Sinnoh Champion's autograph, Ash is giving Paul the most aggravating yet genuine shit-eating grin the latter has ever seen.

"A 'nice guy', huh?" Ash lightly teases. "I always knew you had a heart."

Paul glares back at him as if to mentally punch him in the face. It isn't the first time someone has accused him of getting 'soft', and it's a trend that's been bugging him for over a year now. They always say that it's in the little things, such as the hint of warmness in his fierce eyes, or how he now compliments his pokémon about five percent more often than usual. And every damn time, they always say it began when he started dating Dawn. Paul cringes at the possibility of losing his edge to romance.

"No need to worry," he tells the young man with the pikachu on his shoulder. "That's just the image I have to put on as Champion. Absolutely nothing's changed about me."

Paul glances aside, having made his point. He hopes that Ash, is his infamous ability to take everything at face-value, will drop the subject after that. But when he sees the guy stifling a laugh, a surge of rage rushes over Paul's body.

"What?" he barks.

Ash crosses his arms, knowingly. "You just said 'No need to worry!' You're talking like her now!"

It takes all of three seconds for the the color to drain from Paul's face. He races forward in shame, trying to hide his mortified expression from Ash's exuberance. No amount of humiliating defeats could rival the terror that comes with adopting your girlfriend's catchphrase. He stops in the middle of a clearing, his mind racing as Ash catches up to him.

At what point had Dawn brainwashed with all these flowery emotions? Paul considers smashing his head with a rock to self-induce amnesia and revert back to his old, happily _un_ happy self. But then he remembers there's too much to lose.

Like it or not, Dawn had been good to him–like a spoonful of bitter medicine that tastes awful at first, but makes you feel better in the long run. Whenever he was doing more than his daily ten hours of training, Dawn would remind him to eat dinner. Whenever he forgot his 'please and thank you's, Dawn would punch him in the arm. Whenever the stress of being Champion was too much and he sentenced himself to solitary confinement, Dawn would drag him out so they could watch Cleavon Schpielbunk movies over ice cream sundaes.

Indeed, every ounce of logic was screaming that Dawn was ruining him. But in his shriveled up, raisin-like heart, he knows that Dawn is probably the best thing that's ever happened to him. And that feeling he gets when Paul realizes that he, the man who worked through blood, sweat, and tears to get to the top, couldn't handle the fun-loving nature of his own wonderfully imperfect girlfriend can only be summed up in the most prominent word in his dictionary.

Paul is _pathetic._


End file.
